


Liquid Courage

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Banter, Begging, Canon-Typical Violence (mentioned), Consensual Kink, Edgeplay, Floor Sex, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Haven Advent Calendar 2017, Hugs, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), Obsession, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Riding, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Sharing Clothes, Smut, Spanking, Voyeurism (of a kind), so much porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: Duke tried, as always, not to think of Nathan beneath him, grinding his heels back against the floor as they fucked.Well, hetried. There was only so much a man could do.





	1. i want to be honest, i want to be bad

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a response to the following Haven Advent Calendar prompt: _'I've been doing some thinking, dreaming, drinking lately, and...'._ Chapter titles are taken from Lurk, by The Neighbourhood.

Nathan stalked into the Grey Gull like there was a gun to his head. Hands in his pockets, jaw set forward, lips pressed together into a hard line. He was obviously off-duty, given the green sweater and blue jeans, but he still looked like a _cop._ People gave him the side-eye as he entered the bar, and he ignored them with so much determination that Duke actually felt sorry for him.

“Officer Wuornos. Here to search the premises? You know you need a warrant for that, right?” He smirked, dried a glass, met Nathan’s eyes steadily. He knew what was _expected_ of him. This banter was their lifeline, and Nathan would not take sympathy lying down. No matter how much Duke wanted to give it to him.

Nathan grunted in reply, sliding onto a barstool, knees folding politely beneath his lean body. His legs were too long, and they knocked against the wooden underside of the bar. Duke tried, as always, not to think of Nathan beneath him, grinding his heels back against the floor as they fucked.

Well, he _tried._ There was only so much a man could do.

“Just give me a beer,” Nathan snapped.

Duke did. Nathan lifted the glass to his lips, downed half of it in one impressive gulp. Duke raised an eyebrow, taking due notice of the grey marks beneath Nathan’s eyes.

“Bad day?”

“I’m not here for _therapy,_ Duke,” Nathan replied, but he sounded tired. Too tired to keep this up.

“Never said you were, Nathan.”

“Then stop asking questions.” Nathan had another go at his beer, throat moving as he tipped his head back to swallow. Duke leaned against the bar, hands spread, ducking his face down in an attempt to catch Nathan’s gaze. Nathan eventually relented, glaring.

“ _What._ I’m here to drink. This _is_ a bar, right?”

“You know,” Duke began, his voice soft, “we were friends once. You and me.”

Nathan flinched. He looked away, the shape of his face tightening as he clenched his jaw. Duke wanted to touch him, wanted to _soften_ him, show him it was alright to be weak.

“You can talk to me. If you’ve had a shitty day at work.”

Nathan laughed incredulously. “I can _talk_ to you? What makes you think I trust you at _all,_ Duke?”

Duke shrugged. “I run a bar. I’m good at listening.”

Nathan twitched with confusion again, fingers tightening around the curve of his glass, and Duke thought, _ah._ Nathan had come here looking for a fight. He’d come here expecting argumentative words and a whole heap of repressed fury, eager to exchange verbal blows in the same way other men got into physical brawls.

The realisation was dismaying as fuck, especially given Duke was _actually_ trying to be nice.

“Well,” Duke began loftily, sighing with as much dramatism as he could muster, “when you’re ready to _open up,_ Nathan, just say so. I’ll be right here.”

Nathan sat in confused silence, obviously dismayed by the lack of anger in that reply. He ground his teeth, maybe chewing on his numb tongue, and had another drink of his beer– only this time, he sipped at it sadly. He was like a child. A petulant, miserable child, who Duke should have hated purely for his combative attitude.

Shame he didn’t really know how.

 

***

 

Duke went about his business, serving other customers, watching the general population of Haven get drunker and drunker. He was oh-so-used to seeing people in dramatic states of over-intoxication, so he really shouldn’t have been keeping one eye on Nathan the whole time, feeling something sour and unpleasant brewing in his gut whenever Nathan raised his hand for yet another drink. He was behaving like an _addict._ Something bad had clearly happened.

He was content to let Nathan drink himself into oblivion right up until Nathan got up, staggering from his stool and towards the exit. Duke saw car keys dangling from Nathan’s hand, and almost wanted to laugh at the horrified dismay that filled him. Shit. As if Nathan wasn’t already the most self-destructive motherfucker on the planet _,_ now he wanted to add _drink driving_ to his list of accomplishments.

He told his bartender to mind the place for him, and ran out after Nathan. The guy wasn’t civil when he was _sober,_ so Duke knew he was in for an earful about how deceptive and immoral he was, but fuck, he didn’t really have a choice. He could not let Nathan get in that car.

The night air was startlingly cold when he emerged outside, and he shuddered, cursing Nathan’s predilection for making stupid decisions. Nathan hadn’t made it far, still trying to figure out how his feet worked, and was still a good distance away from his truck. Duke jogged over to him, stood between Nathan and the driver’s side door, pondering for a moment what it would be like to have no physical sensation whilst also being intoxicated.

“Can’t let you do that, buddy.”

Nathan stopped short, swaying. He looked through Duke, blue eyes glassy and despondent, his stare fixated somewhere to the right of Duke’s face.

“Get outta my way-”

Duke clutched his Nathan’s shoulders, steadying him as he tried to lurch past. “Don’t make me take your keys. I’ll call you a taxi, okay?”

Nathan gazed off to the side blearily, the vitality of anger utterly absent from his face. Duke had expected Nathan to be swinging his fists and spitting fire, but he just looked… empty. Gaunt. Burnt down to the filter like some discarded cigarette. Hair hanging down his forehead, lips wet with the stickiness of alcohol, face bruised by tiredness.

“Hey,” Duke whispered, still holding him upright, “what’s happened?”

Nathan closed his eyes. They were standing so close.

“We lost someone,” he slurred, “a witness. Shot before we could get to her in time. I was there, when she…”

Duke’s blood ran cold. “You saw someone _die_?”

Nathan nodded. His breaths were hollow and audible now, lips twisting into some bitter, resentful parody of a smile. His eyes were still closed, but Duke could see tears starting to gather along the line of his lashes.

Duke hugged him.

Nathan’s body automatically tensed up, tightening under Duke’s hold. Duke clung onto him anyway, waited to be punched for his trouble. But Nathan eventually relaxed, a long exhale shuddering out from between his lips, warming the side of Duke’s neck.

“You know I can’t feel you, right?” He asked hoarsely.

Duke did him the courtesy of pretending not to notice the tremor in his voice.

 

 


	2. i think to be thoughtful, i know that i'm not

Duke didn’t think about it.

He didn’t think about Nathan’s body against his, those thin shoulders and that broad chest. He didn’t think about the way Nathan turned his face inward, seeking out comfort he couldn’t take, touch he would never be able to feel. He didn’t lay awake at night, wondering what he wanted.

He _didn’t._

 

 


	3. i think of the chances, i think that i'm wrong

Nathan turned up to the Great Gull three days later, far more sober and far more stable than last time. The place was empty and quiet, owing to the fact they’d only just opened. Duke grimaced, not having planned to engage in any verbal spats this morning.

“If you’re here to fight, _don’t._ I haven’t had enough caffeine yet.” He muttered the words into the rim of his mug. “You can come back in an hour.”

“No, I, uh,” Nathan cleared his throat, looked sheepishly down at his boots, “I’m here to… thank you.”

Duke blinked. “You what?”

Nathan sighed hard, like Duke’s surprise was some kind of _inconvenience._ “You stopped me from driving home drunk. Pretty sure I would’ve killed myself in that state. So… yeah.”

“Or someone else,” Duke added pointedly.

“Yeah. Or someone else.” Nathan ground out the words dully, obviously ashamed of his behaviour, and Duke felt something hot beneath his skin. An itch. Something he wanted to scratch so damn badly. Nathan was slender, muscled, and wiry; his whip-thin body was about as goddamn tempting to Duke as the curves of any woman. Here he was, Nathan bloody Wuornos, in his weekend clothes and yet another damn _sweater,_ looking like some kind of white-picket-fence-husband, offering up apologies and humble regret.

Duke wanted to _ruin_ him.

“Yeah, well,” Duke said instead, “I know how it is. You drink too much, you think too much, then you start drinking some more…”

He gestured for effect. There was tentative relief in Nathan’s answering smile– an unspoken, sheepish admission that he’d acted irresponsibly that night. Duke wanted to grin triumphantly, but didn’t. He knew how fragile Nathan’s ego was. A silent apology was all he would be getting today.

Well, shit. He supposed was all he needed.

“You want some pancakes?” He asked brightly, eager to change the subject, snare Nathan in a good mood before he could run away again. “I make good pancakes, y’know.”

 

***

 

Nathan sat at the bar, folded down into a lazy slouch, shovelling pancakes into his mouth. Duke watched. It was practically _masochism,_ being so close to Nathan while he ate. Those damn lips. That stupid mouth, that fucking tongue, flicking out and tasting the sweet remnants of maple syrup. Duke wanted to bend over him and grab his neck, slide their mouths together like it meant Nathan would be able to feel him. He wanted Nathan to arch and moan and shudder, skin red from Duke’s biting kisses.

But Nathan was smiling at him. Nathan was laughing along with his jokes and eating pancakes. Nathan was his _friend._

And Duke didn’t dare ruin that.

It wasn’t like Nathan would be able to feel him anyway.

 

 


	4. i want to be faithful, i want to be raw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick obligatory note: all kinks and sexual limits should be thoroughly discussed in the context of bdsm or sub/dom-esque activities, in order to ensure optimal safety and enjoyment for all parties. please take into account, when reading my fics, that i fully support [bdsm etiquette and consensual sexual encounters,](http://bdsmwiki.info/Negotiation) no matter the kinks and fetishes being explored.

Nathan started to come by the Great Gull more often.

Duke didn’t question _why_ Nathan did this, very deliberately, because he knew that questioning would lead to supposition, and supposition was a very, _very_ dangerous thing for a man as desperate as him.

He wanted his wildest, most absurd dreams to become a reality; he wanted Nathan to be here for something more than pancakes and coffee, something more than microbrew beer and juicy steak. He wanted a confession, an admission, a _surrender._ He wanted Nathan to give up the damn game and stop this endless dance, this on-and-off friendship they’d been entertaining for too many years, perpetuated by petty squabbles and resentful grudges. He wanted something more than this tentative rapport, this awkward banter, reluctant half-smiles tilting up the edges of Nathan’s mouth but not _quite_ touching the mood in his eyes.

He wanted to be selfish.

But he was being rewarded for his restraint, in a small way, so an advance didn’t really seem worth it. He ate up every moment that they shared, greedily and unashamedly, lusting after Nathan’s next visit with a hunger so decidedly unlike him. He didn’t _pine._ For god’s sake, he was Haven’s most eligible and sought-after bachelor; it wasn’t like he was wanting for company. He shouldn’t have looked forward to that first glimpse of Nathan through mingling crowds at the bar, shouldn’t have felt a swell of warmth at the sight of tight shoulders, a downcast stare, and a grudging grin.

Just _seeing_ Nathan brought Duke a fucking _disproportionate_ amount of joy.

So he didn’t take what he wanted.

He just took what he was given.

And if, at night, he went home and touched himself, biting down on his knuckles to muffle choked-off moans, seeking the company of men who looked like Nathan… well. That was just how he was managing things.

Joe Davis, a fisherman whose boat was docked near Duke’s, became a regular in Duke’s bed. He had hay-coloured hair and an easy smile, a firm chest that filled out his shirts, and a body made strong by seafaring duties on-board his vessel. He was something of a playboy when it came to women, as was Duke, so their relationship was strictly sex, and strictly secret.

That worked out fine for them both.

 

***

 

Duke blinked sluggishly, the side of his face pressed against his mattress. He was dazed from sleep, his skin stiff where their release had dried the night before, his body warm and heavy.

Joe Davis had coaxed him from sleep with lazy strokes of his palm, and then rolled him over, his intent blatant and unchallenged. The dominance of it all had caused a spike of heat to pound through Duke’s body. There was nothing quite like being fucked first thing in the morning when he was too tired to properly participate, further than lying limp and feeling the ebb and flow of pressure inside him.

He liked it when it hurt. Davis could give him that. They’d discussed it at length after their first night together.

He imagined Nathan was the one behind him, lifting his hips and pushing into him without _quite_ asking for permission, taking what he wanted. He imagined that the slick, too-tight feeling was due to _Nathan’s_ cock spreading him open, moving deeper and deeper inside him, even as he inched up the bed in a half-hearted attempt to escape. Those fingers between his shoulder blades, holding him in place, pinning him down. That mouth murmuring calm orders, telling him to stay still and take it. The creak of his bed as hips rocked against him, pace increasing rapidly, almost too fast for Duke to adjust to.

 _Nathan_ , he thought, bucking helplessly in place, _Nathan, Nathan, Nathan-_

The man inside him set a brutal pace, fucking him hard and without mercy. Duke’s answering whimpers were eventually muffled by a calloused palm, pressed tight against his mouth. He was trapped and it felt good. Davis didn’t bother with fancy positions or difficult angles. He just held Duke still and _pounded him._

“You like it?” Davis growled, but he didn’t really want a reply. “You like it, huh?”

Duke did, and it didn’t take him long to come, shuddering himself into a limp, voiceless daze.

Davis kept going.

 

***

 

As was customary, Duke and Davis had a beer on Duke's deck after the sex was done. It was more awkward than it was enjoyable, but Duke knew there were rules when it came to these kinds of arrangements, and it was always better to be civil. Still, as they reclined in deckchairs and settled into a silence mitigated only by smalltalk, Duke couldn't help but wish he was alone.

"So. Who is he?"

Duke frowned, not meeting Davis' eyes. "What's that?"

Davis laughed quietly, and Duke regretted playing dumb.

"Whoever it is you're not sleeping with. The reason you're sleeping with me."

"...Look, Joe-"

"It's fine." Davis waved a hand placatingly, the ease of his tone suggesting he didn't need to lie. "I didn't come into this with aspirations to  _date_ you, Duke. I know that's not what you're in for, and it's not what I want either. Not with you, anyway. So, who is he? Man like you doesn't often lose out when it comes to getting the girl. Or," he paused, chuckling, "in this case,  _guy,_ I suppose."

Duke sucked on his teeth, shook his head. Had a long, deliberate gulp of his beer. Eventually, getting the message, Davis relented with a calm nod.

They both knew it wasn't his business to ask.

 

 


	5. is it too much to ask?

After Joe Davis left, Duke threw out the empty beer bottles and looked forlornly out across the ocean horizon, leaning against the railing of his boat, feeling lost and confused in ways he didn't know how to explain. Sleeping with strangers felt wrong, now. He didn't like admitting that what he wanted,  _needed,_ was not something within his reach.

The wind was soft against his face, and Duke closed his eyes. He thought about how Nathan would never again experience this feeling, something as small as the movement of air, or the change in temperature. He wondered how he could possibly make Nathan feel good. How he could reach him, slide beneath his skin and  _touch_ him, slip past that numbness and find the man beneath. Then, as he so often did, he imagined what Nathan's lovers might be like. Did he take male lovers? Female lovers? Did he have sex at all?

He went inside, feeling angry and upset. There was nothing he could do to sate his desires, so he texted Davis and told him,  _I don't think I want to meet again._

There was no reply.

Duke figured Davis had seen that coming.

 

 


	6. you wish i was yours, and i hope that you're mine

It was after midday on a Wednesday, the lull between the lunch rush and the dinner rush. The weather outside was utterly fucking awful, and if the rain and wind wasn’t seasonally expected then Duke would almost insist a trouble was the cause; shit, he _wanted_ a trouble to be the cause. At least that way someone could stop it.

“We’re losing all our damn customers,” he muttered darkly, sighing to himself and glaring at the veritable monsoon outside, as if he could guilt the weather into righting itself.

“Maybe you should make soup.”

Duke raised his eyebrows, turned around to see who had spoken. Nathan grinned back at him tiredly, his hood drawn up, hair plastered down over his forehead.

“Everyone likes soup when the weather’s bad,” Nathan elaborated blandly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got that,” Duke replied, clearing his throat, “What the hell’re you doing, Nate?”

Nathan took a seat at the bar, pulled off his drenched hoodie. Duke resolutely did _not_ stare at the saturated fabric of Nathan’s shirt, and certainly did _not_ take any particular notice of the clinging, skin-tight transparency the shirt had begun to adopt.

“Thought I might grab a beer.” Nathan said, folding his hoodie and placing it on the bar. Duke stared at him.

“…You’re saturated.”

“I’ll live, thanks.”

“It’s a weekday.”

“So?”

Duke blinked, frowning. He was trying to put this delicately, and in such a way that did not reveal his borderline obsessive knowledge regarding Nathan’s schedule.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

The question finally hit some kind of nerve. Nathan shrugged and looked away, his actions revealing the blatant lie even before he said it aloud.

“I’m taking a day off.”

Duke laughed. He couldn’t help it. “You? Taking a day off? Come on now, Nathan, you don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you?”

Nathan had the gall to look irritated that he’d been caught out in the lie. “Just give me a damn beer, Duke.”

Duke gawked at him for a second more, before holding up his hands in a mock surrender, doing as he was– apparently– being commanded. Nathan wasn’t the sort of guy to drink at this time of day, which naturally led Duke to assume something was wrong. Only trouble with that assumption, though, was that Nathan didn’t _seem_ upset. He was twitchy. Nervous. Secretive. But he wasn’t furious or heartbroken, so Duke wasn’t at all sure what to make of it.

He set Nathan’s beer down on the counter, and decided he’d play the long game.

“Here,” he threw a dishtowel at Nathan, “dry yourself off.”

Nathan looked down at himself, frowning– his face settled into an expression of surprise, and it occurred to Duke that the idiot likely hadn’t even been aware just _how_ soaked he was. It followed, then, that Nathan was probably freezing too, and had no idea.

Overtaken, for a moment, by exasperated concern, Duke reached out and placed the back of his hand against Nathan’s cheek.

“You’re _frozen,_ you nutcase. You need to take a shower, get some dry clothes.”

Nathan pushed away Duke’s arm, as was expected, but something _unexpected_ happened too. He glanced off to the side, rolling his bottom lip under his teeth, biting down like he was trying to contain himself.

Well.

 _That_ reaction was…

…actually, further than being a _massive goddamn turn-on,_ Duke didn’t know _what_ that was.

“I’ll be fine,” Nathan replied. His voice was strained.

Duke stared at him, clueless as to what the hell he should do next. Something was going on. He had to be very, very careful, because unknown emotional variables affecting Nathan’s behaviour were usually highly volatile and easily aggravated.

“This is ridiculous. You look like a drowned rat. Why don’t you,” Duke gestured behind him, tried to make the suggestion sound _casual,_ “Why don’t you get changed? I’ve got some spare clothes.”

Nathan frowned. Instead of replying, he had a pull of his beer, the towel abandoned on the counter. His throat stretched, jaw moving as he swallowed, and Duke could’ve sworn that Nathan was actually _trying_ to seduce him.

“Why do you have a change of clothes at your restaurant?” Nathan eventually asked, pointing his beer at Duke almost accusingly.

Duke grinned. At last, an opening for some predictable humour.

“Well, you know how it is for us delinquent thieves. I like to be prepared. Never know when I’ll have to take a sudden holiday, if you get my meaning.” He leaned forward, whispered the last few words conspiratorially, offering Nathan the opportunity for yet another ungraceful jab at Duke’s less-than-legal business dealings. This was how they worked. This was their _routine._

But Nathan wasn’t playing his part.

He just sat there, dripping wet, staring at Duke like he was trying to figure something out.

“…Okay,” he said finally, words far too quiet and far too _deliberate_ for Duke’s comfort, “I’ll get changed. Give me your clothes.”

Duke went to speak, but hesitated. Nathan watched him. Being pinned under that stare was nothing new for Duke, but he’d never been on the receiving end of such secrecy before. Nathan’s eyes were guarded. Unmoving.

They were playing a different kind of game now.

So Duke nodded silently. Went to go get his duffel bag, and did not turn around when he heard Nathan slide off his stool, shoes landing quietly on the floor.

 

 


	7. go fast, go fast

Nathan couldn't feel Duke's clothes settling around him, couldn't feel the folding of fabric as it embraced his body, but he imagined that he could. He slipped Duke's shirt on, lifting it to his face as he did, inhaling deeply to breathe Duke's scent in. Closing his eyes. Readying himself for a moment that he had been certain would never come.

Audrey's words echoed loudly in his head.  _If you don't get on with it and tell him how you feel,_ she'd said, eyes bright with amusement,  _I'll damn well tell him for you._

He'd laughed, shocked by her insistence and confidence, anxious about the topic of their discussion but delighted by the ease with which she bossed him around. He'd been stalling for too damn long. Waiting for some magical event to occur, some turn of fate, that would bring him and Duke together without the need for him getting off his ass and  _making something happen._

He opened his eyes. Did Duke's shirt up, tried to breathe normally.

It was time.

 

 


	8. i'm thinking, you and i better just go with the flow

While Nathan got changed, Duke returned to the bar. The rain outside was hammering down now, battering itself against the windows like some kind of living fury, wind screaming through the air. It occurred to Duke that Nathan would probably have to stay at the Gull for as long as the storm lasted; there was no way he could drive in this weather. He stared at Nathan’s abandoned beer like it could answer his questions. Condensation dripped down the glass, the imprints of Nathan’s fingers leaving ovular shapes in the moisture. The storm raged on, but everything else was silent. Duke realised, suddenly, that there were no other customers.

It was just the two of them.

“Hey.”

Nathan’s greeting was soft, and Duke turned around to behold him. Nathan was hovering a few feet away, just _standing there,_ tucked into one of Duke’s dress shirts and a pair of his jeans. The sleeves were a touch too long, the shoulders too broad, causing the fabric hang off him– making him look far younger than he actually was. He’d swept his hair off his face, dried it messily with a towel, and had apparently decided not to bother with shoes. Grey socks poked out from the hems of the borrowed, well-worn pants, which Nathan had rolled up to compensate for their length.

Duke only realised what he’d done when it was too late. He’d looked Nathan up and down, eyes lingering in all the wrong places, his expression far too focussed for the act to be described as anything other than _checking Nathan out._

He looked back up, met Nathan’s eyes.

He was done for.

He was _fucked._

But Nathan didn’t protest, accuse, or yell. He just blinked slowly, moisture clinging to his eyelashes, and slowly walked over to the barstools. Without taking his eyes off Duke, he picked up his beer, and drank the rest of it.

“…Nathan,” Duke began hoarsely, like he could somehow explain himself.

He couldn’t.

Nathan put down his empty beer, walked around the bar, and Duke felt like he was being approached by a ravenous tiger. A prowling, intelligent, dangerous creature. He’d never seen Nathan like this before.

Nathan walked up to him. Stared at him from beneath hooded eyelids, his cheeks pink from the cold. Duke held onto the counter like it could ground him.

“I’ve been drinking a lot lately,” Nathan told him quietly, “thinking too much, as well. You understand that, right?”

Duke swallowed hard. “Uh. Sure.”

Nathan nodded, looked down like he was nervous, like he was _trying_ to tell Duke something but didn’t have the balls to do it just yet. He bit his lip again, shy and worried, and it was only then that it hit Duke.

He’d only ever seen Nathan act this way around women.

Specifically, women that he fancied.

Summoning courage he hadn’t been aware he even possessed, Duke reached up, sliding his hand against the curve of Nathan’s neck, cupping the shape of his skin. Nathan exhaled shakily, and didn’t look up.

Duke placed his other hand on Nathan’s neck too, eased Nathan’s face upwards. Met his eyes. Asked the question he didn’t dare voice. Nathan’s eyelids dipped down, his mouth parting with a trembling, unsteady breath.

That was the only answer Duke needed.

He yanked Nathan forward, kissed him hard. Maybe he was too hasty, maybe he was moving too fast, but _fuck it–_ he’d wanted this for so fucking long, and this was _real,_ this was _actually happening-_

Nathan pushed back, kissing like he didn’t really know how, lips and tongue moving against Duke messily. Duke got his hands on Nathan’s body, held him how he’d always dreamed, but Nathan wasn’t holding him back. It made sense. Nathan didn’t _need_ physical closeness, not the same way other people did; it didn’t come naturally to him.

Which begged the question…

“What’re you doing?”

Nathan panted against his mouth. “What d’you mean?”

“You- Since when do you-”

Nathan pulled back and regarded him with confused, hurt eyes– and that, _that_ wasn’t something Duke wanted.

“I just,” Duke tried to explain himself, “What do you… want?”

Nathan set his jaw. He seemed embarrassed, and began to step away from Duke.

“Wait. Just let me…” Duke held him still, made sure the desire showed in his eyes, just in case Nathan had any doubts about his intentions. “Let me get up to speed, yeah?”

Nathan nodded.

“You… want me.”

Nathan blushed. Duke grinned at him, and Nathan’s cheeks grew even more red, the tips of his ears burning.

“Well, damn. I didn’t see that coming, Nate.”

Nathan batted a hand weakly against his chest, and _fuck_ if the action didn’t intoxicate Duke even more, purely by emphasising their closeness. He pressed their bodies together, felt Nathan’s thighs against his.

“Shut up,” Nathan muttered, unable to stop smiling. Duke laughed.

“Yeah, but I mean, you… Nathan, you can’t…”

Nathan sighed, the exhalation ghosting against Duke’s cheek. “I can’t feel you, no.”

Duke’s heart fell somewhat at the pain in his tone. He gently pressed a kiss against Nathan’s cheek, heard thunder rumble outside.

“So, what do you want then?” He asked. Made sure his voice was soft, just as tender as the press of his lips against Nathan’s skin. He heard the answering hitch in Nathan’s breath, knew that tone of voice was what constituted intimacy in Nathan’s world.

“I want to watch you,” Nathan whispered, “I want to see you come undone. I want to see it in your face. I want to hear it in your voice.”

Fuck _._

 _Fuck_ , Duke was going to _fucking implode-_

“You get off,” Duke began weakly, “by getting other people off?”

“Yeah,” Nathan breathed. He reached down, palmed Duke through his jeans.

“ _Shit_ ,” Duke groaned, “Nathan-”

“I’m good,” Nathan promised him, voice becoming heavier now, tone deepening into a low growl, “really good. You’ll like it. I promise.”

A pulse of heat shook through Duke so violently that he _moaned,_ and then he laughed. A voyeur. Nathan Wuornos was a _voyeur._ And he knew this only because Nathan himself, Duke’s oldest friend and unrelenting antagonist, had him pressed up against the counter of his bar and was feeling him up. He leaned back far enough that he could meet Nathan’s eyes; he needed to pause this, needed to _recalibrate,_ adjust in accordance with the giant fucking revelation he was experiencing.

Nathan looked back at him. And then, joyfully, he smiled. Duke grinned in reply.

“This could be the start of a beautiful future, Nate.”

Nathan laughed. “Shut _up.”_

He reached up, threading his fingers through Duke’s ponytail, turning his wrist and twisting black hair around his knuckles. His grasp was tight and unyielding, and something changed between them, shifting and coiling. Duke let out a gasp– a quiet, unintended sound, one that slipped from him without conscious thought. Nathan leaned into his body, gripping Duke’s hair as he crowded him against the counter. Duke’s lips parted as he felt the warm hush of Nathan’s exhalation, and he inclined his head forward, tried to kiss him.

Nathan yanked his hair and held him still.

Duke wanted to make a joke, wanted to say, _what, you don’t want to kiss me now?_ But he knew what this was. This was Nathan establishing that _he,_ not Duke, was in control. Nathan couldn’t feel anything, and Duke knew that he wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing this _just_ to see Duke react. Which meant he had seen, had _sensed_ , Duke’s need to be bent and shaped to another’s will.

The knowledge, immense in itself, shook him to his core. But there was something else there too. A feeling that wasn't just visceral arousal.

Something much softer.

"Jesus," Duke whispered, eyes closed, “please, Nate. Please, I...”

He didn't clarify  _what_ he was asking for, but they both knew. They both heard the desperation in his tone, settling beneath his words with an intensity that was almost akin to  _pain._ His use of Nathan's nickname, the hallmark of their shared childhood and complicated history, spelled out all the complications and desires he'd never need to voice. Nathan knew. He  _knew,_ and he felt it just as keenly as Duke did. The distance between them, the pain they'd inflicted on each other... it had left marks. It had hurt.

So Nathan kissed him.

"I know," he breathed, "I know, Duke."

 

 


	9. i'll fucking digest you, one kiss at a time

Rain slammed down against the windows, but they ignored it. The curtains were drawn down low, a blanket was laid out on the floor. Duke was naked in Nathan’s lap, legs folded on either side of Nathan’s waist. He rode Nathan unsteadily, whimpering as Nathan’s cock sunk in and out of him.

Shit. He’d never be able to work in this bar _ever again._

“Slow down,” Nathan told him, his tone controlled and quiet, “slow down for me.”

Duke gasped, shook his head. Nathan moved his hands, holding Duke down by the hips, forcing him to stay still. A noise, wrecked and helpless, broke free from Duke’s throat as he was impaled deeper than ever before, the curve of his ass flush against Nathan’s groin. Shudders moved through him, making him bow over, hair hanging in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t known Nathan would be like this.

Fuck. He was so turned on that it _hurt._

“Nathan, please-”

“Shh,” Nathan whispered, “shh.”

Duke swore under his breath. He swayed his body forward, flexed the muscles of his lower back as if Nathan could feel it at all, as if that would give him back some measure of control. Nathan was touching him now, palming his cock at a torturously unhurried pace, lying there with sex hair and kiss-swollen lips, just _watching._ Duke looked down at him with an open mouth, eyebrows drawn together tightly, sweat beading on his forehead. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe how _controlled_ Nathan was. It made sense, and he supposed he should've expected this, but no amount of rationalisation could have prepared him for this experience. God, if sex was always like this, Duke would never leave his bedroom.

Nathan jerked his hips upwards, bringing one palm around to slap Duke’s ass, pain melding with pleasure and becoming a new kind of sensation entirely. Duke cried out, panting hollowly, so Nathan spanked him again, leaving a blush of red in the shape of his fingers.

“Kinky,” Duke gasped, trying to inject sarcasm into his tone. Nathan chuckled quietly, pinching the tip of Duke’s cock between his thumb and his forefinger. He tightened the muscles of his hand without warning, and Duke could’ve _howled_ from the way it felt. He managed to keep his reaction to a quiet, stifled choke, high-pitched and raw. He was actually trembling now. Joe Davis and all the others, they’d never made him feel this way. They’d never made him feel this _good._

“Gonna- Gonna come, Nate, I-”

“Not yet.”

“ _Please-”_

“Don’t,” Nathan breathed, something animalistic sparking in his eyes, “Don’t come yet.”

 

***

 

Later, Duke was collapsed down, curved against the shape of Nathan’s body, embraced loosely and sleepily. Nathan hadn’t come, but he said he didn’t need to. All he’d needed was to see _Duke_ come.

“Never been watched like that before,” Duke mumbled.

He felt Nathan’s mouth against his cheek, smiling fondly as the world began to fade. Everything was warm, and he wanted to disintegrate into the feeling, be absorbed by all the sensations still humming through his body. But there was one thing he had to know before he slipped away.

“Will we regret this?”

Nathan pulled him closer after a pause, and the unsteadiness of his next words suggested he was desperate for Duke to believe him.

“No,” he promised, “never.”

 

 


	10. it's black and it's white

Audrey was curled up on her couch with a cup of cocoa when Nathan knocked on her door the next morning.

She let him inside, already grinning. His answering smile was wider and brighter than anything else she had ever seen, and it was hard to ignore the blooming pink blotches on his neck– made, undoubtedly, by Duke Crocker himself.

“Congratulations, Nathan!” She laughed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back hard.

“I’d never have done it if you hadn’t made me,” he admitted.

She sighed happily. “What’re best friends for, huh?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! A comment would be appreciated if you enjoyed this story... even an incoherent smash of letters would make my day ♡ It's always nice to connect with readers when I chuck fics out into the internet void lmao
> 
>  
> 
> -Jake


	11. to your recklessness and pleasure, i purely commit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YA BOY'S BACK. New chapter lyrics will be taken from IAMX songs. Not Beta read, as usual.

Duke woke slowly. He was lying on his stomach, hair knotted in a messy bun against his neck. Light was filtering weakly through his blinds, the still-tumultuous clouds outside stopping the sun from warming Haven all that much after last night’s downpour. Still, gentle rays slanted in stripes across his body, settling against his skin where blankets had been kicked aside and pushed down during sleep. A familiar mouth was trailing kisses up his back, pressing soft, gentle touches against his shoulder blades and along the sensitive terrain of his ribs. They’d tidied up at the restaurant after they were done, he remembered. He’d been loose-limbed and hazy, words incoherently mumbled as he clumsily tried to dress himself, Nathan closing up shop for him before taking him back to the Cape Rouge.

Duke had never been so affected by sex before. And he’d never been treated like a prince, never had somebody take him home and undress him tenderly before tucking him into bed. Even just remembering the way he’d been treated had his cock stirring where it was trapped, pressing hot and hard like a brand beneath his navel, a heavy exhalation announcing his wakefulness. He was still damp and sweaty from all they’d done. Still dirty with the stench of sex, deliciously marked and aching.

Nathan hummed against the curve of his back, lips sucking a pink blush into his skin. Duke felt the tickle of hair whisper against him, the stubble-rough hinge of a sharp jaw; he realised that Nathan must be bent over him, sat beside the bed. Head bowed low like he was in the midst of worship.

Nathan’s mouth made a wet noise when he relaxed his lips, releasing Duke’s skin from the suction of his bite. Duke shifted, laughing helplessly, almost unable to believe how turned on he was by the smallest of actions. The tiniest moments of contact between them.

“I got coffee,” Nathan informed him, breaking the silence, lips moving against Duke's back.

“Sexy,” Duke replied. His voice was raw and hoarse, throat still aching from yells and moans and pleas.

Nathan chuckled. Duke heard the creak of a chair, felt Nathan’s mouth leave him. He turned his head where it rested against the pillow, peered groggily over to where Nathan sat. He was dressed in Duke’s overlarge clothes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, one hand dangling between spread legs, the other holding a coffee against his thigh. Duke’s gaze followed the solid line of Nathan’s forearm down to his knee, and across to the defined shape of his cock beneath denim. He'd been afraid that this might get weird the morning after, but no, he still wanted Nathan to fuck him as much as he had before.

“Going commando, are we, Nate?”

Nathan smirked, reaching for the bedside table, where another coffee rested. He passed it over. Duke took it without lifting his torso up off the bed.

“Well, you didn’t lend me any underwear, so.” Nathan shrugged, the look in his eyes far from innocent. “What was I supposed to do?”

Duke groaned in response to that, not yet awake enough to formulate a sassy reply. He rolled onto his side, body facing Nathan now, and propped himself up so that he could sip the offered coffee. To his delight, Nathan’s eyes followed much the same path that Duke’s had. Duke was already hard, despite the fact he was only half-awake. He shifted, drawing one thigh back, letting Nathan take a good look.

His blatant exhibitionism didn’t receive the reaction he expected. Nathan’s eyes lit up for only a moment. Almost immediately, his expression sobered, and Duke’s gut was gripped by a seize of panic. What had he done wrong?

“We need to talk,” Nathan said quietly.

“…Oh.” Duke nodded, trying to buoy the worry in his voice by remaining hopeful that their one awesome night together hadn’t just turned into a giant mistake. “What about?”

The lines of Nathan’s throat tightened with a swallow, and he frowned, looking down at his lap. He toyed with the lid on his coffee, tapping against the plastic mouthpiece like he was trying to find the right words. Duke felt the sudden urge to cover himself up, but he didn’t. He put his coffee back on the bedside table and waited to see what Nathan was so worried about.

“Are you…” Nathan began tentatively, still not looking up, “Are you alright?”

Duke stared at him. And then kept staring, until Nathan looked up, eyes brimming with fear and concern. They were both silent for a moment, Nathan obviously not understanding that the meaning of his question was unclear.

“I, uh. Don’t really know what you mean.” Duke confessed. “I feel fine. I felt great, actually, until you said, ‘we need to talk’. Kind of a boner-killer, y’know.”

Nathan’s smile returned, briefly, but his eyes were still weighed down by anxiety. He placed his coffee down next to Duke’s, and rose to his feet. Slowly, moving with so much deliberate intent that Duke felt his cock twitch, Nathan took a seat on edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. He reached over and took Duke’s jaw in hand, thumb resting comfortably against Duke’s lips. Oh, yeah. Duke was _definitely_ turned on now.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Nathan whispered, “That’s not what this is.”

Duke nodded as best he could. “Okay.”

“I want to make you feel good. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Is that what this is about? Last night? You didn’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Duke replied gently, his chin against Nathan’s palm as he spoke, “Yeah, of course. I would’ve told you if you’d done something I didn’t like.”

Nathan kept looking at him, as if searching his expression for some hint of a lie. Duke peered back, trying to look as honest and forthcoming as he could. Whatever Nathan saw must have been satisfactory, because the next thing Duke knew, Nathan was rising from his seated position, bringing his legs up onto the bed, placing one knee either side of Duke’s waist. Straddling him. His every movement was slow, patient... almost _leisurely_. His face was calm, now. Not worried.

“Loving this power dynamic thing, Nate,” Duke breathed, “I’ve never had sex with someone who’s been fully clothed before. Kinda kinky.”

Nathan didn’t reply. His gaze left Duke’s face, moving down his body with an utter lack of subtlety. He sat back on Duke’s lap, denim against flesh, the curve of his ass pressing uncomfortably down on Duke’s cock. Duke gasped, thighs pulsing with a clench of muscle. The pressure was just enough, but not too much.

Still not speaking, Nathan brushed his fingertips over Duke’s sternum. His touch was so feather-soft that it made Duke’s skin jump.

“Close your eyes.”

Duke started, surprised by Nathan’s murmured command. He considered asking why, inquiring as to what game they were playing now, but he supposed he knew what kind of game this was. He’d always known. He did as he was told, still heavy from sleep, body relaxing the moment his eyes were shut.

Nathan continued to touch him, the barely-there brush of his fingertips not unlike being shocked with electricity. Duke couldn’t predict where Nathan’s touch would land. Everything was amplified, like this. All he could see was a muddy mix of warm colours through eyelids, and touch became his whole world. He could feel his hair tangled beneath his neck. He could smell the tang of pre-come as he leaked, pinned down against the bed by Nathan’s body, some masochistic part of him unbelievably excited to be trapped where he couldn’t move. He was a slave to the whimsy of Nathan’s choice, the delicate pattern of contact that Nathan was exploring across his chest.

“I want to touch you in a way that you love,” Nathan told him, “I want to see you give in. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” Duke licked at his lips, wetting them in the hope that Nathan might kiss him. “Of course.”

Nathan swirled the edge of his thumb around Duke’s right nipple, the line of his nail hard against fragile skin. Duke’s eyelids flickered, but he didn’t open his eyes. He hadn’t been told to. His hands flexed uselessly against the sheets.

“Do you like this?”

Duke nearly laughed. He was about to fucking come at this rate, and Nathan wanted to be certain he was enjoying himself? As if it wasn’t obvious.

Nathan’s touch disappeared abruptly.

“Yes,” Duke immediately answered, “Yes, I do.”

Nathan’s hand returned to his skin. Duke relaxed, relieved.

“Do you let other men touch you like this? Control you like this?”

Duke felt Nathan sway his hips, dragging harsh denim fabric across the sensitive skin of Duke’s cock. Duke shuddered, body suddenly taut, words lost in his throat. He groaned, the sound punching out of him.

“Answer the question.”

“I- No, I don’t-”

“Why not?”

Duke gasped, arching his neck back on the pillow, eyes still closed. “ _Fuck,_ ”

“Tell me why nobody’s ever touched you like this.” Nathan ordered him gently. “Don’t you deserve to be touched like this, hmm?”

Nathan sat back again, heavier this time. Duke nearly came. He tried to control himself, tried to reign in the boiling desire that was turning him into a senseless, confused mess of need. Thinking about what they were doing didn’t help. He’d only been awake a few minutes– and yet here he was, totally naked, trapped beneath Nathan, who was fully dressed. He imagined what it would’ve been like to watch this. To see himself treated this way. His one-night-stands had fucked him hard and left him sore, but he’d never been pulled apart with precision and decisiveness, never been dissected until he was a trembling shell.

“I don’t, I don’t want other men to do this to me, Nate, I-“

“Why not.”

“Because they’re-”

“They’re what, Duke?”

“I don’t want to,” Duke’s breaths were coming harder and faster now, “I don’t want to _say it_.”

“Tell me.”

Nathan’s voice was so soft, so controlled and loving, that Duke almost wanted to cry. His head was full of heat and nonsense, sleep-addled and overwhelmed, so he sucked in a ragged breath before deciding that, fuck it, he didn’t have the capacity to refuse any of Nathan’s commands right now. Or ever. Yeah, Nathan had always been his weak point. Nathan had always gotten under his skin like this.

“They weren’t you.”

The moment those three words left his mouth, Duke knew they meant more than he’d ever expected to share. Nathan froze, the motion of his hips stuttering into stillness. Duke lay still, panting, desperate to open his eyes.

“…How long?” Nathan whispered, tone suddenly filled with emotion, “How long have you…?”

Duke didn’t know if he could answer, because he didn’t really know when it had started. Turned out he didn’t need to though, because Nathan was leaning down, his measured control abandoned completely, slotting their mouths together into a messy kiss. Duke keened helplessly, bucking against Nathan, struggling to ground himself and keep his orgasm at bay as Nathan grabbed and mouthed at him, movements frantic and rough, a hand yanking at his hair. He felt like a virgin. Like he was living in some kind of wet dream. Nobody had sex this fucking good. And what made it even better was that Nathan didn't _need_ kissing and grinding and physical release; he was getting nothing out of this but the satisfaction of seeing Duke fall to pieces underneath him. Every single ounce of his being, every single action and movement, was focussed on obliterating Duke's sense of control.

“Nate,” he pleaded, “I’m-“

Nathan reached down, wrapped a hand around his cock and _tugged._ Duke’s body snapped sharp like a bowstring, shudders vibrating through him, garbled cries falling from his mouth freely. Nathan ground against him, thrusting intently and jolting half-choked noises from Duke’s throat as he worked him steadily, stroking his cock with so much force it was almost too much.

Almost.

Except it never would be.

Not with Nathan.

Duke drew up his knees, folded his legs. Clung on for dear life, tried to breathe, tried to make this last as long as he could. But soon enough he was gone, bent and shaking, one solid breath of sound bursting forth from his lungs. His pulse beat in all the places where he and Nathan touched, skin on skin, fabric on flesh.

Then everything was quiet.

 

 


	12. violate me, show me your religion

Duke damn near fell asleep again. He couldn’t move to lift his head off the pillow, legs falling back onto the bed and splaying limply on either side of Nathan’s thighs. Nathan didn’t touch him for a while, falling silent as Duke’s breathing returned to normal. Gasps settling into a steady, sleepy rhythm.

Duke let him do as he wanted, content to lay still and float in a haze of heat. He could feel Nathan’s eyes on him, could feel himself being watched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He’d never been this willing to be _seen_ before.

When Nathan’s hands did return to his body, it wasn’t in a way Duke expected. Fingers, delicate and soft as bird wings, brushed a stray wave of hair off Duke’s face, tucking it gently behind his ear. The tenderness of the action made a sheepish flush creep up Duke’s neck, an exhausted echo of arousal pulsing through his groin. Being treated like this was going to break him apart. He knew Nathan possessed the ability to understand him the way nobody else did, and that frightened him as much as it delighted him.

He cracked his eyes open, the world blurry and warm, offering Nathan a tired smile. Nathan grinned back at him– an expression Duke treasured more than he would ever admit.

“You’re alright,” Nathan murmured, as if he needed to make sure, “aren’t you, Duke?”

“Yeah,” Duke replied, “You oughta get up off me so that I can shower, though.”

Nathan chuckled. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the corner of Duke’s mouth. Normally, with other male lovers, Duke would have felt trapped by now; fumbling for words to speak and excuses to make, or filling the silence with half-hearted humour and sarcasm to hide his discomfort. But as it was, he just turned his face into Nathan’s kiss, eager to explore and be explored now that the urgency of their first time had abated.

Their coffee was getting cold, but oh well.

He reached up, resting one hand against the curve of Nathan’s waist, feeling fabric settle over smooth skin. He knew Nathan couldn’t sense his touch, and that made him sad in ways he couldn’t begin to vocalise… but it was enough to be close to him like this. It was enough to know that Nathan wanted him, even if they couldn’t connect the way normal people could.

“Thank you, Nate.”

He let his voice dip and rasp, allowed himself a moment of honesty because he knew how much it meant to Nathan. The hush of a surprised breath whispered against his tongue, Nathan pausing mid-kiss like the swell of emotion in Duke’s tone was just as meaningful as a willing body or a slow embrace. Being spoken to like that truly caught Nathan off-guard, Duke was beginning to realise. He supposed not many people would’ve opened up to him. Fucking was fucking, but confessions were something more.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Duke continued quietly, lips brushing against Nathan’s. “Do you need that?”

Nathan shook his head. Were he anybody else, Duke would have reached over and palmed him through denim, got him off the best way he knew how– maybe pushed him down onto his back so that Duke could use his mouth to get the job done. But he knew that his usual dance wouldn’t cut it. He knew there would be time, later, to explore all the ways he could make Nathan feel as good as he did, but today wasn’t the day. This was still unexplored territory, still alien to both of them. He didn’t want to push Nathan into feeling something he wasn’t used to.

 

***

 

Later, a cloud of steam curled around Duke, hot water cascading down from a rusted shower head. Nathan had showered before him and then gone off to work, slipping his tongue inside Duke’s mouth before he left like he physically _needed_ to hear Duke moan just to be satisfied. Duke had still been naked at the time, and in his most honest moment he would enthusiastically praise the eroticism of being pressed up against a wall by a police officer with a gun on his hip.

He was hard now, of course. In the jungle-heavy humidity of the bathroom he tipped his head back, untied hair spilling down his shoulders as he touched himself. Through the fogged-up glass of the shower he could see himself in the mirror, partially obscured by clouds of condensation and falling water. Leaned against white tiles, shoulders curled forward tightly, abdomen seizing with clenches of muscle as he worked his oversensitive cock.

He looked just as desperate as he felt.

It didn’t take him long to come, knees bucking under him, feet sliding unsteadily as he tried to stay upright. He could hardly be blamed. Nathan didn’t _feel._ He could fuck Duke for days and never stop– and Duke’s masochism, apparently unsatisfied, replayed their dirty sex in sordid flashbacks, taunting him with the fantasy that Nathan was here with him, wet under the shower’s stream, fucking him with the calm detachment of someone who didn't feel anything.

Duke slid down onto the floor of the shower. The water was beginning to cool, but he was boneless, unable to even think about moving.

He was physically shaking with the force of his orgasm.

 

 


	13. pleasure for pleasure

Nathan took off his jacket, hung it on the back of his chair. Nobody commented on the fact that he was late, and he supposed that was one advantage of having a spotless record when it came to being punctual. People let him off the hook.

He took a seat. Glanced at Audrey’s empty desk, wondered when she’d be back from whatever errand she was running, and peeked out into the hallway to make sure nobody was coming his way. Then he hid his face in his hands and tried to breathe slowly. He didn’t know what it felt like to have your heart slam against your ribs, didn’t know the heat of a blush or the gut-churning roil of embarrassment; but he did know that something about Duke had changed him deep down. This was a crush, or something. Maybe even love. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and it itched at the edges of his numbness, burning like a flame against the lack of sensation he'd once been so content with.

_Do you want me to touch you?_

Duke couldn’t properly touch him, Nathan knew that.

But he wanted to listen to that voice forever.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lotsa dirty talk coming up, y'all   
>  (also this is basically a de-stress fic because my life is pure Bullshit™ right now, so there will probably be regular updates lmao)


	14. this time there's no codeword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Yes, I know I made a spelling mistake, I apologise. If you see any please ignore them. I am a #stressed guy right now lmao

Nathan didn’t fuck Duke for a week.

This wasn’t due to a choice that either of them had made, it was more due to the troubled kid who had been running around town cutting everything up with fatal laser vision that he couldn’t control. His abilities had been triggered by the very messy and aggressive divorce his parents were going through, and very little could calm him down but the soothing words of his mother. Nathan, overburdened and tired, had been working himself to the bone trying to help that little boy and prevent more people from dying. Audrey had been much the same. When children were at the centre of a case, it was always that little bit harder to solve.

Duke hadn’t wanted to push Nathan into seeing him again. Really. He knew distress when he saw it, and the fate of Haven citizens was far more important than the sex he was definitely not having right now. It was actually more difficult to ignore his compulsion to comfort Nathan, because he knew _that_ would be an even bigger mistake than flirting; Nathan was not an easy man to calm down at the best of times. And they may have been sleeping together, but Duke knew him well enough to be certain that his presence was not needed in Nathan’s place of work.

For once in his life, he was being…

…responsible.

As if _that_ wasn’t enough to shock him into an early grave.

So he waited, dutifully and patiently, going about his daily routines and running his restaurant. And when he heard that the troubled kid had been somehow dealt with, he allowed himself a small smile and the glimmer of hope that, soon, he would be seeing Nathan.

 

***

 

He was on his boat that night. Watching TV, slowly making his way through a glass of illegally imported whiskey, lazily dressed in a loose button-down shirt and denim shorts. A shuffled sound startled him, made him stiffen in his seat and look, alarmed, towards the nearest doorway where Nathan stood.

His eyes were hooded, his mouth was smiling, and his hands were empty. He hadn’t brought a conversation piece, hadn’t bothered with the mundane politeness of a bottle of wine, and it was very clear why he had come. Duke stared at him. It was almost insane, how his heart immediately began to pound, pulse humming against the skin of his neck. He couldn’t even think of something to say, because every single part of him knew that there was nothing _to_ say. The look on Nathan’s face made him melt, pinned him in place, sliced right to the core of his soul and took hold of his common sense.

When Nathan crossed the room, Duke stayed where he was. When Nathan reached down, taking his glass, Duke didn’t move. When Nathan finished what remained of the whiskey, tipping back his head to swallow it all at once, Duke let him. And, finally, when Nathan set down the glass and began to undo the buttons of Duke’s shirt, Duke offered no resistance. He let his eyes fall closed, trying to calm his breathing as Nathan slid the shirt down his shoulders. The slowly churning sea outside his boat sloshed faintly, the sound of waves drifting in through the open door. Nathan tugged the shirt out from behind Duke’s back, dropping it on the floor. The television show Duke had been watching– god knew what it was– quietly continued on in the background as Nathan knelt, confident fingers undoing Duke’s belt with disarmingly insistent haste, denim yanking harshly against Duke’s hips. The leather made a sharp hush as it was pulled free, discarded with a clatter.

They were really going to do this. Fuck without speaking. Nathan had just walked in here, point-blank, and was now going to do as he pleased.

If that wasn’t power, then Duke didn’t know what was.

Nathan took his hands, pulled Duke off the armchair where he had, so recently, been settling in for a long night of boredom. Thinking that Nathan was going to take him to the bedroom, Duke began to turn in that direction– only to be pushed down to the ground with enough force that he had to catch himself when he landed, hands planted firmly on the floor. He knew he could stop this if he wanted. He knew that one single word from him would end this and that Nathan would respect his boundaries. But he was hard, _dripping,_ inside his underwear, and not one single part of him wanted this to stop. No, he wanted to be fucked here. Like a dog. Like he was Nathan’s to use however, wherever, and _whenever_ he so pleased.

Duke's denim shorts were pulled down and off his legs. His hair hung freely, dark waves swaying as Nathan proceeded to roughly take off his underwear too. His cock sprung free, but was ignored, and he didn’t touch himself. He left his hands flat against the floor, because he knew what game they were playing, and he knew exactly who was in charge. Nathan didn't need liquid courage and nervous internal pep talks any more; all hesitation, all nervousness, was gone.

There was the plastic snap of a cap behind him. The wet sound of lubricant being poured onto fingers. Nathan took a steadying hold of his hip with one hand, reaching intently forward with the other, and Duke tried not to rock backwards onto the digit that slipped slick past his opening. Yeah, he’d been watching his diet, keeping himself clean, eagerly awaiting the day when he would be seeing his lover again– and maybe Nathan had known that. Maybe he’d known, somewhere deep down inside him, primal and unrefined, that Duke would be keeping himself prepared and ready.

This was ownership. Plain and simple.

Duke lowered his face down onto his hands, eyes squeezed shut, barely able to stand the humiliation of being fucked with the door wide open, barely able to take the torment of being _so fucking turned on._ His tight stomach was sticky with precome already, thighs quaking where they were spread. Nathan turned his finger, twisting down to the knuckle, the full force of his wrist behind the sudden invasion. Duke’s shoulders jolted with a surprised jerk. The tips of his ears were burning, bright red with embarrassment.

He wanted to beg.

Instead he just took it, silent and helpless when Nathan added another finger, stretching him far too fast for his comfort. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

They still hadn’t spoken. Nathan worked him at an aching pace, pushing and tugging. Duke’s inhalations became ragged, heavy with the burden of not whimpering, not begging, not moaning; not doing anything except staying still. He was flushed, covered in a sheen of sweat already, feverish arousal competing with the nighttime chill wafting through the door. His hair became heavy, spilled about his shoulders. He wished he could tie it up, but that would mean moving. And that wasn’t allowed.

Nathan moved his fingers faster. Three, now. The pace became unforgiving and cruel, and Duke couldn’t help himself.

He made a sound.

It was a pleading, broken groan. He froze immediately, the emotional equivalent of an an electric shock pummelling through him as he realised he’d broken the silence. Nathan’s fingers stilled inside him– and then withdrew. Duke didn’t know why, and was worried he’d done something wrong, when suddenly he heard the jangle of Nathan’s belt, followed by the metallicscrape of a zipper.

“Look at you,” Nathan breathed, “Fucking _look at you_ , Duke.”

The blunt, unexpected pressure of a cock entering him immediately followed Nathan’s words, and Duke shuddered as he was held down against the floor by a crushing body weight, Nathan’s palm reaching around to press hard against his mouth. He moaned again, more high-pitched this time, as he was filled in painful, thrusted increments. He was so powerless. So perfectly vulnerable, paralysed where he lay, arms awkwardly folded beneath his torso, crushed and trapped. And the best part of it was that, if he wanted, he _could_ in fact escape; and the trust, the knowledge that he was ultimately safe, made the surrender so much sweeter.

Nathan started to fuck him. Hard. Duke went limp, cries muffled by Nathan’s palm, body violently rocked by insistent, heedless thrusts.

Duke gave in.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Hand in His Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13101897) by [CookieDoughMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe)




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